


Red Lips

by DoreyG



Category: Egyptian myth, Greek myth, Norse myth
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 20:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A regular meeting in a crowded bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Lips

The form she wears this time is as beautiful as ever. Black hair, brown eyes, curves that look _stunning_ in red as she slides into the booth and immediately has a cocktail glass to her lips (a Black Russian, deadly and charming).

“Isis,” he purrs, tapping his fingers against the side of his own glass (an Incredible Hulk, he’s not quite sure what’s in it but the name _did_ make him chuckle).

“Irina,” she corrects him, her lips curving into a smirk even as the alcohol slides down – they’re painted red too, a vivid shade that would look gaudy on any other creature (any lesser creature, for they are greater than them all), “this time, at least. I might change it soon.”

“To what?”

“Ishtar,” she muses, drawls over the syllables and doubtlessly leaves them reeling at her attention, “old, but odd enough to be quirky – maybe I’ll pick another younger, fitter body with great boobs and pretend to be a scatty, naïve art student who will be _ever_ so easy to take advantage of.”

He chuckles, because they _both_ know the way of things, “ah, how stupid humanity can be.”

“Mm,” she assents, though she’s generally a lot fonder of humanity than he’s ever been, and takes a brief glance around the bar – absurdly long eyelashes fluttering against her skin as she takes the usual insipid crowd in, “is Hermes going to bother to show up this time?”

“Harry,” he takes great pleasure in correcting _her_ , and points over at a crowded corner – fawning groupies of both genders practically crushing themselves into the walls just to get the briefest glimpse of the _master_ at work, “and he’s working, should be over soon once he’s finished courting the little people.”

She swivels back to him at that, narrows her eyes slightly – she has make up on, it suits her in shades of finest ash, “I hope he realizes that he needs not solicit other company tonight.”

“Perhaps we should bind him to the bed later,” he smiles, already imagining delicate ropes summoned by the lightest spell or heavy chains called at the click of his fingertips, “remind him of that _and_ of why we still meet so often. We are gods, after all, we can drum it into him for hours.”

“Or days.”

“Or _weeks_ , even,” and now it is his turn to smirk, toast the lovely lady before swallowing his burning drink down, “anything is possible on nights like these.”

And she smiles in return, curving and proud and just the slightest bit cruel…

And he sees, in the shine of her lipstick and the glimmer of her eyes and the curve of her breasts under the fine red fabric, the way these nights are _always_ bound to end. The three of them writhing on a bed, melting together: Hermes’ mouth around him, his cock inside Isis’ body, Isis fucking _both_ of them with the magic that hums around her like a cloak woven from purest gold.

It shall be _glorious_ (it always is _glorious_ ).

…But for now he shall be patient, as patient as he’s always been as he’s lurked in the cold spaces and woven the dooms of others, and raise his glass to his lips again. Smile a little, tilt his head fondly when she taps her vivid nails against the table, “so, how have you been?”

And she chuckles merrily, as soft and stunning and stylish as ever with snakes’ fangs hiding just beyond her goddesses’ lips, “Oh, _Loki_.”

They are gods, after all. And they will go on _forever_.


End file.
